The thread in the hand of a kind-hearted mother makes clothes for her wayward son. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. Who can say that a filial child like the weak can repay his mother's love like the sunshine in spring? Homesickness, mother's kiss, only mother is good in the world. The poem for mother (Liu Tingwei) is huge, and parents are very kind. When children go to Wan Li Road, mothers worry about raising their children before they know their parents' kindness and maternal love. All the glory and pride in the world come from their mothers. (Gorky) Motherly love is a great flame. (romain rolland) There is a most beautiful voice in the world, and that is the call of mother (Dante) Mom, where you are, there is the happiest place (England). A loving mother's arm is made of love. How can a child sleep in it without sweetness? (Hugo) The sweetest word a person's lips can utter is mother, and the best call is "mother" (Ji Bolun) Motherly love is the greatest power in the world (Mill) Everything else in the world is fake and empty, and only mother is real, eternal and immortal. (India) How intense, selfish and fanatical maternal love is, occupying the feelings of our whole soul. (Duncan) In a child's mouth and heart, the mother is God. (British) How similar mothers all over the world are! Their hearts are always the same. Every mother has a very pure heart. (Whitman) Women are fragile, but mothers are strong (France). Without the help of selfless maternal love, the child's mind will be a desert. Poetry: 1. Motherly love is a blood connection and a blessing for children. Motherly love is like the wind in spring. It is the clouds in the sky that always let the hot sun pass through her first, and it is the sunset after the rain that always lets the washed earth lie in her arms, writing colorful life dreams high. Maternal love in childhood is a gentle palm that hits the body to care for the soul. Since childhood, maternal love is a rough palm that caresses the face and hurts. Now, maternal love is an invisible palm, covering the sky and the sun and caring for the heart. 3. Mom's love/returning to Feng Ming is a ray of warm sunshine and the arrival of all seasons, like a spring breeze, which wakes all emotions from hibernation. It is a feeling of life, emitting the fragrance of life, and it is undoubtedly a kind of willing love. Even if the wind wrinkles the sky of time, even if the rain wets the youth, even if the soul is beaten by peaks and valleys, what is more reliable than this? Needless to say, you know that only true love is selfless here. Motherly love is a thousand pieces of advice before children leave. Carelessness after parting; Looking forward to coming back. Mother, hanging her love for her children on her face, never spit out a word of "love", and then silently counted the days and nights after separation. Motherly love is the fire of children in winter; Hungry and delicious; Thirsty drop of spring water. Mother sewed love into the child's cotton-padded jacket, wrapped it deeply into the delicious jiaozi, silently packed it into the child's luggage, but she was suffering from sadness when she left. 5. Message to Mother/If I were a bird, you would be my habitat. I will shell in your nest, crow in your nest, call for the wind and shelter from the rain, and you will block your rich and warm nest, feed my feathers and hide my wings. The wind is your solid love nest, lift my wings, fly to the distant sky, fly over the ocean, sing in the wind and soar in the rain. Wherever I fly, you are my home. 6. Give it to my mother. You are not a lighthouse, but you bring light to my soul. You are not God, but you have given me a colorful and dreamy life. You are not a teacher, but you left me a pure and sincere heart. I'm not a genius, but I'm the one you care about most. I'm not an urchin, but a child who doesn't grow up in your eyes. I'm not smart enough, but I know every love you give. My mother has your clear sky, and I am dreaming. I enjoy the spring breeze with your concern. You are a calm harbor, and I am a sail that will always return. You are Bibo, I am Kapok, I am a towering mountain peak, and I am a boat going down the river. 7. To my mother Goethe, although she hasn't greeted you or written to you for a long time, don't let your heart doubt, as if your son's due love for you has disappeared from my chest. Not at all, just like the stone that has taken root at the bottom of the water forever, it will never leave its original place, even if it is running water, sometimes there are storms, and sometimes there are soft waves flowing through it, making people invisible. My love for you is inseparable from my chest, even though the long river of life is sometimes whipped by pain, violently rolled, and sometimes quietly caressed by joy. 8. Dedicated to my mother, Bay Heine Heine. I am used to swaggering, my eyes are facing the sky, and my temperament is a bit stubborn; Even if the king and I face each other, I won't drop my eyes. But, mom, I want to tell you the truth: although my pride is so strong, I often feel inferior and cringe when I come to your happy and kind side. You have a noble spirit, which permeates everything and radiates to the sun, moon and stars. It is this spirit that secretly conquered me? Recalling the past really makes me sad. I did a lot of wrong things and broke your heart, so I love my loving mother! 9. Ah, Shu Ting's mother, your pale fingertips touched my temple, and I couldn't help holding your skirt as tightly as I did when I was a child. Ah, mother, in order to keep your drifting figure, although the morning light has cut your dream into smoke, I still dare not open my eyes for a long time. I still cherish that bright red scarf, for fear that washing it will make it lose your unique warmth. Ah, mother, isn't the running water of the years just as ruthless? I'm afraid my memory will fade, too How can I easily open its screen? I cried and asked you for a thorn, but now I am wearing a crown of thorns and dare not moan. Ah, mom, I often look up at your photos sadly. Even if the call can penetrate the loess, how can I disturb your sleep? I dare not show the gift of love like this, although I have written many songs for flowers, the sea and the dawn. Ah, mother, my sweet and deep memory is not a torrent or a waterfall, but an ancient well that can't sing among flowers and trees. 1975.8 10. The poem dedicated to my mother is a bow, and I am an arrow on the bow. You would rather break your bones than send your child to the peak of your life. My mother is a bridge, so I can bend your spine. Regardless of wind, frost, rain and snow, it will send me to the other side of the ideal. My mother is a bright moon, and I am a cloud beside you. You always accompany me with a smiling face. My mother is a small boat, and the waves never swing. She bravely carried her child on her back and crossed many rapids. My mother is a high mountain, and your stalwart body stands tall, trying to lift your child into the universe. My mother is the vast sea, and I am your little spray. Wherever I go, I will always be the son of the sea. My mother is a book, and I will never finish reading it.
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